[Such
meetings are private functions at which Mr
Irving addresses his friends and supporters in
London. The Traditional Enemies of Free Speech
and his other opponents usually go to
considerable lengths to prevent them,
threatening violence to the hotels and
restaurants booked for the functions.

[On
this occasion a tape recording was made of the
opening part of his address.]

As is evident from Mr
Irving's letter
to Mishcon de Reya, April 19,
1999, he had
willingly loaned a tape of his speech to the
Jewish Chronicle, London, shortly after
the function; the newspaper evidently prepared
an illicit transcript of Mr Irving's (copyright)
speech, and supplied a transcript to the
Board
of Deputies of British
Jews forits
secret dossiers, which in turn rushed copies to
its agencies around the globe -- which is how
a
different
transcript
surfaced in Australia.

[The chairman
introduces:] ... well known public speaker
and humorist David Irving.

[Applause,
Laughter]

David
Irving:

SOME
OF of you have asked me what the significance of
this Old Hat is, which I've taken to wearing on
emergency occasions like this, and in fact it isn't
just any old hat, it's nearly years old, now,
although it's been polished to a shine. It's my old
hat as a German steelworker, when I was in Germany
as a steelworker back at the end of the 1950s. I
kept it handy. I also kept my old steel-capped
boots: who knows, I may need them

[Laughter and
Applause].

In fact this symbol here on the
side, this circle with the three slashes is the
symbol which is the great rival, or was the great
rival in those days, to Alfried Krupp. I applied
for a job with Alfried Krupp when I was a student
at London University, and Krupps wrote back a
letter saying,. 'Dear Mr Irving, we'd like to give
you a job as a steelworker with us but the British
destroyed all our steelworks, didn't they, so,'
&endash; no joy

[Laughter].

So I went to the rival, and that
was to Thyssen's steelworks. And that has now been
pulled down, because times change &endash; times
change, economies change; some economies grow
strong on the strength, and the back, and the sweat
of the workers; and other economies grow weak
because of the follies and the foibles of the
governments that guide them. And I shall have a bit
about that to say in the course of the next half an
hour I that I am going to talk to you
today.

Really... [words
indistinct] ... the television not only of
this country but world-wide, because I have had a
lot to do with the press world-wide and none of it
is very favourable. I have always been an outsider
looking in through the windows, but I am not
"battering like a demented bee on the window panes
trying to get in", I am standing on the window sill
with my mouth open in frank astonishment at the
sordid, perverse tricks and tactics that the press
adopt. I think that it was the view of a Mr
Humbert Wolff, writing back in about 1930,
when he wrote these lines:

"You cannot hope to
bribe or twist,thank God, the British journalist.But seeing what the man will dounbribed, there's No Occasion to!"

[Laughter.]

The Journalist, the British journalist.
The last time I spoke to you was on July 4 [1992],
on the afternoon of my return from Moscow with the
Goebbels
Diaries in my pocket, which the
Sunday Times began serialising the day after. And two weeks
later that serialisation in the Sunday Times collapsed in
flames. They had entered into a contract to pay me eight
thousand pounds for that particular job. They were scooped
two days before by the Daily Mail, the Daily Mail had paid
twenty thousand pounds for a rival set of -- rather inferior
-- copies of the diaries; and much to their rage, the Daily
Mail then found, having trumpeted for one week that it was
rubbish to say that David Irving was one of the few people
who could read the handwriting of that German propaganda
minister -- the Daily Mail found they couldn't read the
handwriting of the pages that they had paid twenty thousand
pounds to get!

[Laughter]

So there were some nice "inside" things
happening.

But what was less nice was that Andrew
Neil, the editor of the Sunday Times, obtained from me
these diaries, he published them -- if you remember he had
sixty-foot long posters, he had hoardings in all of the
Jewish ghettos of Great Britain.

I had nothing to do with that. I thought
it was rather tasteless. I got a certain amount of glee out
of it I must admit, the thought of these fifteen-foot tall
swastikas appearing one morning . . .[loud Laughter]
. . . But I had nothing to do with it. He didn't come to me,
Andrew Neil, and say, "Irving, what can we do really to get
up the nose of those people?!" Because if Andrew Neil had
said to me "What we can do really to get up the nose of
those people?!" I would have said, "Andrew, why don't you
put up sixty foot posters, red-white-and-black, with fifteen
foot swastikas, and some Goebbels phrase like THE
WORLD WILL TREMBLE WHEN . . ."

[tape interrupted]

Of course that's what he did and he never
heard the end of it. But a week after that he then
announced, having published the material that I had found in
the Moscow archives, that he wasn't going to pay me.
[Voice: "No!"] He welched on the deal. He published
the ..[tape interrupted].

announced that he wasn't going to pay.
And he thought he would get away with it. Which was a big
mistake. And I know why he did it, and I must say that a
tiny corner of my heart bleeds for him, and in fact if I was
a nineteen-fifties journalist I'd "light a little candle in
my heart" [Angstmeier chuckles]. Do you remember,
that is what the then prime minister of Israel said: He "lit
a little candle in his heart" every time that a British
serviceman was killed in Palestine.

I light a little candle in my heart for
Andrew Neil for all the trouble that he got himself into. He
told me -- half way through this crisis that the Sunday
Times found itself in -- that at no time in his entire
journalistic career had he ever come under such immense
pressure from You Know Whom: from our old traditional
enemies; pressure not just from the advertising industry,
pressure not just from the self-appointed, ugly, greasy,
nasty, perverted representatives of that community in
Britain: he came under pressure from the international
community too, because the Sunday Times like many other
newspapers needs international capital to survive. And the
international capital is provided by the great international
merchant banks. And the great international merchant banks
are controlled by people who are no friends of yours and
mine.

And Andrew Neil found that these
sixty-foot long posters had annoyed these people, and they
put immense pressure on him, and we know this because from
all over the world I have been getting press clippings sent
to me -- two thousand press clippings in those ten days
alone; two thousand press clippings! Any normal editor would
be delighted at the publicity. Two thousand press clippings!
You've dominated the front pages of all your rivals for day
after day after day. But for him it was a total nightmare,
he told me, a total nightmare.

His hair shrivelled, until it resembles
the Short-and-Curlies, on his head!

[Laughter]

He's one of the few men who wears his
pubic hair on his head.

[Laughter and
Applause].

I don't want to be offensive about him of
course, believe me, I've got no desire to be offensive about
Andrew Neil, but he has his short-and-curlies on his head,
and of course where his pubic hairs are his bollocks can't
be far away!

[Laughter and long
Applause].

Now you may think this is David Irving
taking a pretty robust view about his erstwhile editor and
the answer is: Yes, because as I said, he welched. He
decided he wasn't going to pay. He announced to the
newspapers that were putting him under pressure -- in the
Jewish Chronicle, front page, in the international, the
Canadian Jewish News, the American Jewish -- , the world
Jewish journals, he said, "I've decided to breach the
contract with Mr Irving and I won't pay him another penny."

And this is going to cost him dear
because just three or four weeks ago we served a High Court
writ on that gentleman, on Times Newspapers, and he's now
going to learn what he probably didn't realise as a
newspaper editor, that only a few weeks down the road from
receiving service of a writ in the High Court comes a very
ugly stage called Discovery. Capital "D" -- like "H",
capital H, Holocaust.

Everything that has a capital letter is a
bit phoney but a bit nasty too: Discovery is the nastiest
stage you get into in a High Court action because it's when
you're required by law to open your innermost secrets, your
innermost files and documents: I had to provide copies of
all my telephone logs and private letters and diaries, and
nobody can -- I don't mind, because I've got an open
conscience. But he has to provide to us, and to my
solicitors, he has to provide copies of all their internal
conference memoranda, all their internal Minutes, all the
letters between themselves and the Advertising Department of
the Sunday Times telling him that they're coming under
immense pressure from Marks & Spencers and the merchant
banks and all the big companies and corporations, and I know
put pressure on Fleet-street, on Wapping, on the traditional
organs of the British media to alter opinions because it
doesn't satisfy and suit this minority.

I know this happens, because it's
happened repeatedly over the last thirty years of my career.
And journalists, who are basically decent, and upright,
honest and true people deep in their hearts: they come and
tell me privately. Phillip Knightley of the Sunday
Times many years ago, when my book HITLER'S
WAR was first published, said, "David,
you know, the Sunday Times had a contract to serialise
HITLER'S WAR, but they had to
repudiate the contract under pressure from the advertising
department because of pressure that the advertising
department of the Sunday Times came under from Marks &
Spencers and from other bodies like that."

And these are the documents that are
going to have to be produced in the High Court a few months
down the road from now, by Andrew Neil and Times Newspapers
Ltd. They're going to have to produce all the letters
written to them by all these self-appointed lea -- ,
community leaders, by all the various bodies, and worthies,
and Labour members of parliament, and lesbian groups -- all
these gaggles and gangs of people who have been
demonstrating outside my apartment in -- , in Mayfair again
this morning. This odd and ugly and perverse and greasy and
slimy community of "anti-Fascists" that run the very real
risk of making the word fascist respectable by their
own appearance!

[Loud Laughter and
Applause]

It's all going to come out in the wash.
The media were thrown into a total frenzy by the realisation
that "Andrew Neil had commissioned me of all people," as
they said, "to work on the Goebbels diaries." In fact it was
the other way around: I commissioned the Sunday Times. It
was my project. I had the materials. I gave them to the
media. The Sun, when it came out, that worthy journal, the
Sun came out with this little article called Goebbeldegook.
[Laughter] Goebbeldegook! It [printed]

Three weeks ago I warned that
Irving was planning a London rally to publicise his
warped views that it is a myth that six million Jews died
in Nazi gas chambers. We're going to be proven right. I
give it another six months to run, that particular
legend, and then the whole legend will collapse. I asked
the Home Sec --

"I asked the Home Secretary," writes this
jumped-up journalist of the Sun, "I asked the Home
Secretary to ban the rally as a threat to Public
Order."

Who's the threat to Public Order? Us, or
them -- the people outside who demonstrate. That's the way
these journalists write when they're acting on instructions
from above. They don't have a kind of circular: they don't
get a duplicated memorandum, saying, "Oh, by the way, twist
what you've got to write about Irving. Twist what you've got
to write. . .!" They're on auto-pilot, these people: they
know what they've got to write. (Voice: "Yes.") They know,
if they want to keep their jobs. Later on, they'll become
window-cleaners and the rest, when the Sun folds, and
[Laughter] and then they'll have a decent and clean
job they can do. But until they're cleaning windows they're
writing this kind of garbage:

I asked the Home Secretary to
ban the rally as a threat to Public Order! But it went
ahead, as did the violence that any fool could have
predicted. David Irving's status has been enhanced by
working for one of Britain's most prestigious
papers.

A word about that word
prestigious, incidentally. Those of you who used to
subscribe to my old magazine FOCAL POINT, you remember that
at the back page we always used to have something called
"Prestigious Points," uh, "Prestigious Claims," a
competition: people used to submit things like "Sotheby's,
the prestigious auction house." The real meaning of the word
prestigious is not something glittering, and amazing
and fantastic; prestigious, if you look in the Oxford
English Dictionary, means fraudulent, deceitful -- nothing
to do with being wonderful and magnificent. Prestigious
comes from prestidigitation -- [gesticulates with
hands] Oh there's that picture again, like in the
Independent, -- prestigious comes from prestidigitation,
which means sleight of hand, or conjuring, or deception,
hence prestigious fraudulent. Sotheby's, the fraudulent
auction house." [Laughter].

"David Irving working for one of
Britain's most prestigious Sunday newspapers."

Well I suppose it's true. One of
Britain's most fraudulent papers. The Sunday Times.
[Loud Applause].

My reputation is so "enhanced,"
apparently, for example, that the Guardian then went on to
give Mr Irving half a page to expound his obnoxious views.
Fifteen of July.

On the eighteenth of July, in no other
newspaper than the Sun, they gave me half a page to propound
my obnoxious views. In the same newspaper! "Give blacks
thirty thousand pounds to go home says Irving."
[Applause]. "Thirty thousand pounds."

I never said this. I mean, again they're
-- they've got the drift of what I said. But I was also very
plain what I said in an interview that they concocted that
-- I never gave an interview to the Sun -- of course they
concocted this half page interview in which they give my
views in a very positive manner. I said many years ago, I
think that it is time to find some way of persuading the,
the ethnic minorities in this country who are unhappy and
are causing much unhappiness both to themselves and to
others by their presence here to find an upright and honest
manner in which we can transport them back, in a benevolent
manner, to their homelands if they wish to go.

But we have to make it attractive to
them. We have to provide them with full economy, uh, a
full-employment economy to which they can return. We can't
send them back to unemployment; if you pay them five
thousand pounds to leave from Heathrow they'll come back in
through Prestwick, and leave again through Heathrow and
it'll be the biggest stage army since Henry the Fifth!
[Laughter] So my views are roughly given there.

But it was given half a page of
prominence on the eighteenth of July by the Sun, with the
result that just two days later the Sun found it necessary
to give another half page of prominence to my views, this
time with a negative sign in front: Irving lies leave
nazi taste in the mouth.

Obviously ... solicitors got in touch
with the Sun or with Mr Rupert Murdoch and said "This won't
do at all! You're giving him all that publicity and it is
totally unacceptable. You've now got to smear him. And smear
him in such a way as he now finds it necessary to drag the
Sun into the libel courts. And so that article is the most
appalling concoction with one lie after another, two or
three lies in every sentence against me."

And the Sun then sat back and waited
until I served a writ on them. And I didn't! Because if I've
learned one lesson from the laws of Clausewitz, the great
German military strategist, it is that you don't do battle
on the battlefield that your enemy has chosen.

Instead I am suing the Observer for libel
[Laughter] in an article they published [rest of
sentence lost in Applause and Laughter]. The Observer
decided to hire the services of a bearded prophet called Mr
Chaim Bermant, who came to interview me back in January. I
didn't realise he was Jewish and I could have kicked myself;
I mean -- any-body called Bermant, or anybody call Chaim,
and anybody who looks like Moses -- [loud Laughter].
But I let him in because he said he was a journalist, and so
I assumed quite falsely of course that he was upright,
honest, decent and true.

But he writes vicious, vicious lies,
like: "Mr Irving who tries to conceal his working class
origins and aspires to a lower middle class status"
[audience gasps]. Wounding, wounding,
wounding wicked likes like that! But that isn't what
I went after him for, I went after him, and I'm suing the
Observer, because he said in this article, right at the
beginning, things that were materially false.

He said that we published our book
HITLER'S WAR, which has been
published for years already by Macmillan
and by Hodder & Stoughton, -- we've now published it
ourselves in our, my own printing house called
Focal
Point. Purely because we can
produce a de luxe edition with colour pictures and
everything which the big regular publishers can't afford to
do -- Chaim Bermant said, "Mr Irving couldn't find any
publisher of his book, so he paid for the production of his
own book. When I visited him to interview him thousands of
unsold copies of the book were lining the walls of his
home."

A pack of lies. But of course the idea is
to humiliate me in the eyes of the readers, the literary
editors, the booksellers, the publishers -- just about
everybody, to make it look as though my name stinks, that I
am unpublishable twerp.

Totally untrue, and that's what we're
going to have the Observer for!

You pick your own battlefield.

What I am particularly grousing against
the English media for is that they are not representing the
English people.

["Hear, hear," and
Applause].

They are representing nameless
international causes -- not just the cause of the particular
ethnic minority that finds such delight in harassing us.
They are representing the Americans, they are representing
the Europeans, they are representing Monsieur Delors,
they are representing the Internationalists, they are
representing the African National Congress, they are not
thinking straight and asking the obvious question that every
English journalist and editor should always ask, How can I
write things which are in the interests of the English
people?

["Hear, hear"].

And the interests of the English people
are best served by writing the Truth. There is no question
at all. Again and again and again we want to be told the
truth. We want to have it laid squarely on the line.

We weren't told the truth about Robert
Maxwell. Those of us who suspected the truth about
Robert Maxwell, we were hounded. Maxwell was the propagator
of the Holocaust myth in Britain. He held the great
Holocaust Seminars, because he and his ilk survived and
dined out on the Holocaust Myth.

We're all Holocaust survivors, every one
of us who was born in 1939 or, or from then until 1945; but
we don't go around dining out on that particular legend. The
ones who suffered in the Holocaust were the ones who died,
not the ones who survived. But the Holocaust Survivors are
the ones who are earning, of course.

And Robert Maxwell was the Holocaust
Survivor par excellence. He was nowhere near a concentration
camp. He claimed that his family went: he never actually
enumerated the members of his family who went, who suffered
from the Holocaust, but he was part of that grand fraud: he
held the seminars in Oxford, the seminars in Central Hall in
Westminster, and when regular decent chaps like myself tried
to get into those seminars there were those great burly
types with the walkie-talkie telephones, and although we'd
booked in under false names they recognised us and they had
us out straight away right through the revolving
door.

Robert Maxwell the Great. -- And now of
course he's identified as the Great Fraudster and the Great
Cheat and the Great Manipulator. The man who stole millions
of his pensioners' funds, millions of pounds from pensions
funds of his newspa-pers, companies that he'd expropriated;
he stole these pension funds in order to get involved in
illegal share-propping operations to boost the share-prices,
to prop up the share prices of his companies, which as we
all know is an operation that is totally illegal under the
rules and laws of this country.

And yet is that not precisely what our
own Government has been doing for the past two or three
weeks?! Borrowing seven billion pounds in order to prop up
the overseas price of the pound! You're propping up the
shares of Great Britain Limited, and you're borrowing
effectively money that's going to belong the generations of
Britons to come, in order to get involved in what should
surely be an equally illegal share-propping operation.

[Applause].

And all because of course they're all in
the pockets of the great merchant banks and the currency
speculators, who've been making the killing while we poor
mortgage-payers have been suffering and sweating. They've
all been aghast and agape with frank amazement and
astonishment at this conjuring trick which Mr Lamont
pulled out of his top hat. Borrowing seven billion
pounds in foreign currency in order to keep on buying
currency in order to keep the price of the pound
artificially high.

With any man in the street who's got a
bank debt -- any workman -- knows the problems you get into
once you start borrowing on that scale. You never get out of
hock.

But of course the people who are behind
the newspapers, the Conrad Blacks and the people who
are behind them, they don't want Britain to get out of hock.
They want us to be permanently in hock, because that is the
way to keep Britain, the great British people down.

Yet has one newspaper spotted this, and
is one newspaper warning us? They are not talking to us in
terms of an illegal share-propping, pound-supporting
operation. That's all they're saying -- it's a marvellous
piece of manipulation. What Maxwell did was criminal of
course, but what Lamont did is a wonderful piece of sleight
of hand to support his great friend John
Major.

We have all seen through John Major too,
I am quite convinced, every one of us in this room. All of
us, even the editors and journalists have seen through John
Major: a failed bank-teller. [Laughter] No more, no
less, we don't expect any more from John Major as a failed
bank-teller than we would expect from a man of that position
in life. And yet there he is, somehow whisked into power by
nameless hands.

We don't know how he somehow ended up at
the tiller of this country. But there he is, and for the
last two years he has been steering Britain -- not through
the shoals, but straight onto them! And the British people
are trying to scream, but it's like a nightmare, where you
wake up and you can't find you're voice, you can see the
shoals ahead, the liner's bearing down on them, and there's
nothing you can say because You Can't Find Your Voice. And
we can't find our voice because the voice of the British
people is suppressed.

The voice of the British people is
television and radio, and they are not trained to speak for
the British people.

[Applause].

For the last four weeks just for once I
have gone away from London, where I have been sitting down
in Torquay, which is a white community. We saw perhaps one
black man, and one coloured family in the whole time I was
down there.

I am not anti-coloured, take it from me;
nothing pleases me more than when I arrive at an airport, or
a station or a seaport, and I see a coloured family there --
the black father, the black wife and the black children. I
think it is just as handsome a spectacle as the English
family, or the French family, or the German family, or the
South African family, or whatever. I think that is the way
that God planned it and that is the way it should be. When I
see these families arriving at the airport I am happy (and
when I see them leaving at London airport I am
happy).

[Cheers and Laughter].

But if there is one thing that gets up my
nose, I must admit, it is this -- the way ... the thing is
when I am down in Torquay and I switch on my television set
and I see one of them reading our news to us. It is
our news and they're reading it to me. (If I was a
chauvinist I would say I object even to seeing women
reading our news to us.)

["Hear, hear", and
Laughter].

Because basically international news is a
serious thing and I yearn for the old days of Lord
Reith when the news reader on the BBC, which was the
only channel in those times, he wore a dinner jacket and a
bow tie and he rose to the occasion. And at great state
occasions one had the satisfaction of knowing that not only
was the news reader wearing the dinner jacket and the bow
tie, -- at great State occasions I think it was even a white
tie that was called for -- but you had the satisfaction of
knowing that the gentleman behind the camera was also
wearing a dinner jacket. It gave one a certain solid sense
of satisfaction that All Was Well in the Best of Possible
Worlds.

But now we have women reading out news to
us.

If they could perhaps have their own news
which they were reading to us, I suppose [Laughter],
it would be very interesting.

[Good-natured female
heckling].

For the time being, for a transitional
period I'd be prepared to accept that the BBC should have a
dinner-jacketed gentleman reading the important news to us,
following by a lady reading all the less important news,
followed by Trevor Macdonald giving us all the latest
news about the muggings and the drug busts -- [rest lost
in loud Laughter and Applause].

Because, what perverse delight in
self-abdication drives the British people to do this to
itself? Who is it who's in charge at the BBC who says,
"Okay, they are only about nought-point-five percent of the
community, I suppose, but let's give them fifty percent of
the say in the news programmes and let's give them a very
high profile indeed in all the children's programmes." Who
decides these things? Who is turning the world on its head
in this manner, and more important, Why?

The answer is of course, they're trying
to force this multicultural, this multi-ethnic mix, what
Winston Churchill himself called a kind of artists'
sludge: as Churchill said, "If you look at an artist's
palette, with all its magnificent and brilliant pure
colours, which you have squeezed straight out of the tube as
God designed them, and you take your palette knife and you
smudge them around, what colour do you end up with?" He
said: Churchill said, that not some racist, extremist from
beyond the fringe of the law, but one of the greatest living
English, or, English-Americans, saying these words.

And he knew what he was saying, because
he was speaking back in the 1940s and 1950s before this
appalling national tragedy was inflicted on us.

Not one newspaper is standing up and
saying the obvious. That the British people, is unhappy at
what has been done to it, without the slightest shred of
democratic make-believe. Nobody asked the British people if
it was to be done to us in this manner. It just happened.
The Cabinet discussed it back in 1958, it now appears, if we
go to the Public Record Office, and we see that the Cabinet
decided back in 1958 -- Lord Hailsham, the present Lord
Hailsham -- said, "Well, it's just a hundred thousand in at
present. I don't think it's likely to be on balance many
more. We don't need any special Acts at all." And those
doors were left wide open.

And yet, with a bold press, and a
powerful propaganda machine, and the right kind of linkage
and steerage and the right kind of intellects writing the
articles and writing the television films and designing the
media, we could persuade these different minorities that,
Yes, we have done them an injustice, bringing them here as
some kind of cheap slave-labour in the 1950s, but yes, we
are also prepared to mitigate the injustice that we have
done to them.

We could never totally "ethnically
cleanse" Britain: it would be wrong to set about doing it.
But we can relieve the pressure. And there are grand ways
that we could do it even now.

Look around, if we were the editors of
national newspapers, and instead of running these rather
pathetic appeals for Somalia or for Pakistani flood relief
or for the crisis in India, starvation or whatever, we could
say, "Let us send out great British forces of relief-units,
to help these countries. Let us send out specially adapted
units of British citizens to go and help in Somalia and
Ethiopia and Pakistan and India. Wherever there's a need, we
have the expertise, because we have these people living in
our midst for the last thirty or forty years, civilised
folks, the Afro-Caribbeans, the Indians, the Pakistanis."

We'll form them together, we could do
that -- just as the United States did -- we could form peace
regiments, an African peace regiment, an Asian peace
regiment, a Pakistani peace regiment, and send them out to
Somalia, send them out to Pakistan or India, send them out
to help with their expertise, and we'll provide them with
the backing and the money to take goodness and benevolence
and succour and salvation to these people who have been in
the grips of the Marxist elite for too long.

And they would not be there just for a
few weeks or a few months, it is clear; it's a major job,
for these Africa peace units, they'd have to be out there
several years [Applause].

All men, and no doubt just as they
clamoured when they came here from India and Pakistan,
they'd like to have their wives and children with them, out
in Somalia [Laughter] or out in Pakistan, or back
home in India, and we would be happy to fund that operation
too, I am quite sure.

We could do it with the right kind of
background and the right kind of initiative and the right
kind of willingness. We've got the skills. For the last
thirty or forty years we've been instilling skills into
these people. We could do it. Of course.

But the newspapers would never dare to do
it, because the newspapers are still terrified of that word
Race. They don't realise that Race and Patriotism are one
and the same thing. "Patriotism is good, Race is bad" is the
kind of George Orwell kind of paradox that we're all finding
ourselves in.

We're all proud patriotic English people
here, me too.

Occasionally, when I speak in Germany,
like in Munich last weekend, last Saturday, somebody in the
audience stands up and says, "Mr Irving, why do you stand up
for Germany so much?" And I answer, "I don't stand up for
Germany. I stand up for the Truth, as an historian." I am a
patriot.

[Applause].

I ask myself sometimes, then where do our
journalists come from, who write this kind of appalling
garbage. And I am reminded that many years ago I had a
lovely friend who worked in Harrods, in the perfumery. A
beautiful girl, and we were friends for many years, and she
told me that when her friends in the Pharmacy at Harrods got
bored they used to take packets of condoms and stick needles
through them. [Laughter]. And I think this is the
answer to where those journalists have come from. [Loud
Laughter]. It only takes one little prick.

I had a secretary who used to work for me
many years ago, he lives not far from here, and he came to
me one morning, and he said, "David have you seen what the
Sunday Times has written about you yesterday." I said,
"What, what is it this time, Robin." And he said, "Look,
they said: 'Mr Irving it appears has seriously
over-estimated his mental stability.' They're calling you
mad!"